


In the End of the Night

by Mount_Seleya



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Arranged Marriage, Betaed, Bittersweet, Except Rhaegal, F/M, Gift Fic, Grief/Mourning, Jonerys Secret Santa 2018, Motherhood, POV Daenerys, Post-season 7, Showverse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-13
Updated: 2018-12-13
Packaged: 2019-09-17 05:09:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16968270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mount_Seleya/pseuds/Mount_Seleya
Summary: The Long Night ended and peace came at a cost. Now Daenerys worries for her daughter's future.





	In the End of the Night

**Author's Note:**

  * For [itsaboutvale](https://archiveofourown.org/users/itsaboutvale/gifts).



> Written for [itsaboutvale](https://archiveofourown.org/users/itsaboutvale/pseuds/itsaboutvale) (a.k.a. [fireandicekhaleesi](https://fireandicekhaleesi.tumblr.com/) on Tumbr) as a [Jonerys Secret Santa 2018](http://iceandfiresource.tumblr.com/ss2018info) gift. She asked for "fluffy smut" and "Targlings," and, being who I am, I couldn't resist grafting these things onto an idea for an "everyone lives" AU.
> 
> Title from the song "Night" by Zola Jesus. Thanks to [emaiyl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emaiyl/pseuds/Emaiyl) for the beta read.

Sunlight glittered white shards on the gently rolling sea. The wind stirred a stray lock against Daenerys's cheek. Warmth seeped through the purple silk of her gown where her elbows rested on the red-marble railing. Flowers were in bloom around the garden, bursting in shocks of pink, blue, and red on the vines coiled around the balusters.

Any day now ships would slide over the eastern horizon. They crept into the bustling harbour in her mind's eye. Black sails full and snapping, the proud, golden lion of House Lannister rampant beside the Greyjoy kraken.

"Rhae's expecting a dashing young pirate," Jon pronounced from Daenerys's side.

Daenerys swung her gaze around. Her husband cracked a small smile. His wide black eyes held hers. He was soft and halting, the way he always was when they spoke of Rhaella's betrothal, of the future that still seemed a distant haze.

She'd raged when she first learned of Tyrion's treason. Of the bargain struck in secret with his hated sister. Her firstborn child, sold for men and scorpions and wildfire, as her brother had once sold her for the promise of a crown. Even now, eleven years later, in the swoon of this second summer, the anger seized her heart in its bitter grip.

Jon clasped Daenerys's hand where it sat on the rail. "We were _losing_ ," he said in a fragile hush.

"I know," replied Daenerys. "I haven't forgotten the horror we faced." She returned her gaze to the churn of the sea. The warmth of Jon's hand stayed her. "But I wanted better for our daughter. A queen should choose her husband."

"She'll never rule after you if we don't honour Cersei's terms of surrender," Jon averred.

"You think Cersei Lannister cares about honour?"

"I think she loves her son every bit as fiercely as you love our children."

Daenerys blew out a breath. The leaves on the vines rustled in the breeze. Drogon carved slow wheels over the bay. _I have lost three children_ , Cersei had told her. So had she. A son born of her womb; two sons born of flame.

 

* * *

  
A terrible roar tore through the choking dark. Daenerys turned her head against the wind. Rhaegal was falling, wings crumpling like a banner in a slain knight's hand, blood spouting from his neck to stain the snowy field below. His great bulk smashed into the broken black tower. Dead swarmed toward the living. Men hollered orders.

The skim of fingers on her cheek jolted Daenerys awake. She blinked, once, twice, vision adjusting to the half-dark. Her husband's face was silvered by moonlight. He waited for her breath to slow. For the nightmare to shrink away.

"Harrenhal," Daenerys said at length, left hand alighting upon the line of Jon's flank.

"I dream of Harrenhal sometimes," Jon confessed softly. "And Hardhome. Winterfell. King's Landing."

Daenerys slid her hand beneath the hem of Jon's shirt. Ran a fingertip along the gnarled spine of a scar on his belly. "So many battles. So many lives lost." He was murdered, this man, before she knew him. Before he was hers.

"We won," Jon said, catching Daenerys's wrist. "That's what matters."

Daenerys let Jon guide her back onto the night-cool linens. Let his eager fingers ruck up the skirt of her nightdress. The raven head dipped to kiss her belly. To trace the faint scars of lives given, freely, joyously. Of dragons reborn.

A gasp shook out of Daenerys when his lips met her sex. Her fingers caught the riot of his curls and steadied him. He harried her with his tongue. Sweet shocks rocked through her body. Until, at last, she peaked with a cry.

"Ride me, _my queen_ ," Jon urged when she descended, his voice a soft, liquid thrum.

The words made a bright spark burst in her loins. Her blood flamed with the sudden need of him. She straddled him, then, locking his thighs between her knees, and his dark eyes burned with an answering fire as they beheld her.

Daenerys settled into an easy rhythm. Jon bracketed her hips in a steady grip. Ragged groans rose from his throat. His hips juddered up off the bed to meet her sway. He was the wind rolling under the beat of her wings. She was soaring, now, lifting toward the searing white sun of bliss, a song of soft little cries spilling from her mouth.

"I want another child," Daenerys said after, palm sweeping across her husband's heaving chest.

 

* * *

  
Midday sun hammered down on the dock. Daenerys's crown sat warm on her brow. A ship was anchored nearby. Men in red-enamelled armour hurried across its deck. Grey Worm watched them with his hand on his sword.

"Are they pirates?" Aemon asked, tipping his silver head up to look at Daenerys.

"Euwin is a Greyjoy," insisted Rhaella, a girlish fervour in her voice. "They've ruled the seas for centuries."

Jon patted Rhaella's head. "Aye, they _did_ ," he allowed. "Yara ended the Old Way when she took the Salt Throne." Full lips melted into a gentle curve of a smile. "I don't think Euwin has been getting up to any reaving."

"He's been my brother's ward for the better part of his life," Tyrion said levelly.

Rhaella blew out an affronted huff. Her little mouth twisted into a pout. She was a storm clothed in a violet gown. Black wisps mutinied against her ornate braid. The set of her shoulders was square and proud. She'd come while blackness lay thick over the world, a tiny, precious treasure wrested back from the clutches of their foe.

At last a man descended the gangplank of the ship. A reedy spindle of a boy followed close on his heel. They moved down the dock, hastening past the rows of silent, stone-faced Unsullied in a sweep of red and grey.

"Your Grace," Jaime Lannister said when he halted before Daenerys with swish of his crimson cloak.

Silence reigned for a moment. Jaime's gaze found Tyrion's. The years had turned his hair silver. Daenerys last saw him in that first spring, when she had been heavy with Aemon, and life had seemed a too-sweet fruit exploding on her tongue.

"This must be your nephew," Daenerys said, gaze shifting to the grey-clad boy.

"Prince Euwin Greyjoy," Jaime affirmed.

A secret simmered beneath the words. The thinnest edge of a deep pain. Daenerys knew the truth. _Everyone_ knew. It was written in the golden muss of the boy's hair. War had stolen children. So would peace, in its own way.

 

* * *

  
Leaves carpeted the courtyard in a blaze of red and brown. The wind was crisp as it licked against Daenerys's face. Her left arm was fitted into the bend of her husband's elbow while her right hand sat upon the rise of her belly. Rhaella was playing at swords with Euwin a few yards off. Aemon was sat on a bench beneath a tree with a book.

"I expect winter will be upon us soon," Daenerys remarked after a time.

"Aye," returned Jon. "We should pay my sisters a visit at Winterfell. I'm sure the children miss their cousins."

"We cannot keep them forever, Jon," Daenerys said quietly. "They are dragons. They must fly free."

Jon looked at her. Uncertainty weighted his gaze. "I know. I just want them to stay ours a little longer."


End file.
